


Duck Shorts

by loracarol



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Family Feels, Gen, Snippets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-02 20:43:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12733959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loracarol/pseuds/loracarol
Summary: Things that aren't quite full fics, drabbles, w/e. Basically, things that are too short/plotless to feel like a drabble to me.Just a junk drawer, really, with a focus on family fics.Concrit welcomed.





	1. Midas

**Author's Note:**

> AKA the one that would be a comic if I could draw.

"And here I thought you'd be happy with everything you touch turning into gold." Donald said, sitting on the edge of the fountain. Scrooge was there too, sitting no closer then three feet away, and idly picking up rocks. As he grabbed each one, the rock would gain a metallic hue, and he'd pitch it into the fountain. 

"Yes, well, there's a reason the witch called it the _curse_ of Midas," Scrooge said bitterly, picking up a chunk of moss, and consigning it to the same golden fate.

"Yeah, I know, too much gold and it devalues." Donald said, giving Scrooge a sideways glance. "I do remember  _some_ things." 

"Well, yes, but that's not why." Scrooge said, fingers tapping up and down his new golden cane. He paused a moment before adding softly, "in some versions of the myth, Midas manages to accidentally turn his child into gold."  

Donald's head snapped around to look at Scrooge, eyes wide with terror. "You won't get near them until we get this fixed, right?" There was no question who he meant.  

"I was just about to ask if you could run interference." Scrooge admitted. "I don't want to..." He trailed off, staring into the sunset without really seeing it. 

Donald snorted. "With my luck, I'll be the one to end up a golden statue," he muttered. Scrooge didn't respond, and he tensed. He hadn't talked to his Uncle for years, true, and part of him was still angry over the wounds he'd endured, but seeing Scrooge look so... Forlorn? Despondent? Nervous? Was just  _wrong_. "At least then I'd be worth something, right?" He tried to joke. Anything to break to funk. 

Scrooge snapped his head back around to look at Donald. "Don't even joke about that, lad." He softened just a tad and added, "I've never been fond of my assets depreciating in value. You're no different."  

Donald choked, but before he could say something, he heard the most beautiful sound in the world. Rescue. Getting up the mountain had been magical - literally - and getting down the mountain was impossible without any supplies. "We'll talk about this later." He said, getting up to meet the plane. Before he got too far, he paused, and turned back to Scrooge. "It'll all be alright." He added, awkwardly. But it would. It would have to be. 

"Thank you, lad." Scrooge said, leaning against his cane, and waiting for rescue to come. 


	2. Scholastic Aspirations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, Scrooge made a promise.

Donald and his uncle didn't  _talk_  much, even though Donald and his boys had moved into the mansion('s swimming pool), so it was with great trepidation that he followed Scrooge into the old man's office. He'd asked Donald to join him after breakfast, and though Donald knew (had known) the place with care, somehow it now felt like he was being called to the principal's office. The feeling wasn't helped by Scrooge immediately sitting down behind his desk and neatening up the stacks of papers. 

"You called me in here for something?" Donald asked testily, arms crossed. 

"Oh yes. Sit  _down,_  lad." Scrooge said, putting down the papers and motioning at a chair. 

"No thank you." Donald said, still icy in his politeness. 

"Very well." There was a pause before Scrooge continued. His voice was halting, but he pushed through. "Before the, er, incident with... With your... Sister." 

"Della."

"Yes. Before that. When she first told me she was going to have children." Donald could remember the moment. In the past, he'd wished he had had a camera to catch the look on his uncle's face. After, he wished he could forget. "I promised her I'd set up some accounts for the three of them, so they could get themselves a good education when they were old enough. I still have them going. I thought you should know." 

Donald blinked. Whatever he had been expecting, this wasn't it. He sunk into one of the chairs Scrooge had mentioned earlier. 

"Their accounts are set up to pay for their educational expenses at eighteen," Scrooge continued, "and to pay out whatever is left over at age thirty."  

"I could pay for them, you know." Donald said, but there was no bite in his tone. 

"If there was only one of them, I have no doubt you could." Donald wasn't sure if Scrooge was being sincere or sarcastic. He decided to pretend Scrooge was being sincere, as unlikely as it seemed. "But with the three of them, I thought you might like to know."

"Thank you." Donald made to get up but changed his mind. "Are there any more surprises I should know about? Secret funds or hidden treasure?" It was his turn to straddle the sincerity/sarcasm line. 

"Well," his uncle began, and Donald started to get a bad feeling. "There is a general medical expenses account I've had set up, just in case." 

"What." 

"I'm not expecting anything, mind! But it's better safe than sorry. It's not just for emergencies, if any of the lads - or Webby - or you - gets sick, it will cover that as well."

Donald hung his face in his hands. That would have been so helpful before, with three kids who managed to get each other sick Every Time. "Fine. Good." He muttered. "Is that all?" He didn't want to think about all the what-ifs and maybes. He'd walked away from Scrooge for a reason, and they'd all survived. 

"Aye, that's all." 

Donald got up and walked to the door before pausing. "Thank you." He managed to get out. "And I'm sure she would be thankful as well." 

"Yes, yes." Scrooge said, waving him out, and going back to sorting papers. "Now get on out, I have work to do." 

At least that was one less thing he had to stress about. Donald wondered if he should tell the boys, but decided against it. He could hear them off in the distance playing a game. There had been times they'd had to act more grownup then they deserved. He could let them have this afternoon to themselves.  

    

   


End file.
